


World Spins Madly On

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Pink Undies Sunday, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as he had the drawer open a few inches, Derek wanted to slam it back shut. There were several lines that he was willing to cross but going through another guy’s underwear drawer? That wasn’t one of them.</p><p>But…</p><p>He just couldn’t stop himself from staring in bewildered awe at the dresser contents. Admittedly he’d never thought about what kind of underwear Stiles might wear but this was just…were those rainbow colored briefs?<br/>--<br/>Where Derek accidentally steals Stiles' red underwear and that gets the ball rolling in many ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Spins Madly On

**Author's Note:**

> This started out from [this comment](http://haagendazstilinski.tumblr.com/post/53220829674/chaoticwaltz-replied-to-your-post-now-i-cant) I’d made to Brii, which I told Cor, who them reminded me of Pink Undies Sunday and I went ‘oh hey perfect timing!’ But then this fic took a life of it’s own and took a big turn away from the silliness that I had planned. But I’m still sort of maybe kind of pleased with it? So this one’s for Brii & Cor.

Derek eyed the chest of drawers and figured, what the hell, he’d already poked through the rest of Stiles’ things so why not check what was in the drawers as well.  
  


Any other time and day, he’d pick a book from Stiles’ collection and read it to pass the time but he was too keyed up at the present. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, shift and run until the panic thrumming in his veins died down to a leaden tiredness. He wanted to be out there, searching for the Alpha before he hurt someone else. And Derek  _definitely_ didn’t want to be the subject of a damned manhunt that had been started by one of the two idiots whose room he was currently hiding in.  
  


Instead he paced Stiles’ room, poking through his belongings because he needed to do  _something_  while waiting for the teenager to return. Might as well see what the kid liked. It was entirely possible that he might find something useful while doing so.  
  


Then again, Derek mused as he stared at the chest of drawers, it was one thing to walk around someone’s room and see what was already on display and another to actually poke through their drawers. That crossed beyond curiosity and into the realm of creeper-dom right?  
  


But it was either that or pacing and well…  
  


Derek pulled open the first drawer, eyeing the messily folded t-shirts. He couldn’t help but make a face at the blue and orange stripes -  _God_ that was a loud t-shirt! Who in their right minds would  _buy_ that much less  _wear_ it in public? And what was up with all the  _plaid_? Who needed this many plaid shirts anyways?  
  


With an appalled shake of his head, the man pushed the drawer shut and checked the next one. Jeans and socks, nothing too unusual (besides the reddish jeans. Derek hadn’t even known that they  _made_ men’s jeans in that shade). The last drawer contained more clothes, mixed this time. The smell of them was musty and stale, meaning that Stiles didn’t wear these items a lot. Pulling out a stray t-shirt, Derek realized why - they were clothes Stiles had grown out of.  
  


Strange that he would chose to keep his old clothes but Derek gave it no thought. Instead he took a step to the right, shifted the dark skateboard so that it was leaning against the wall rather than the drawer.   
  


As soon as he had the drawer open a few inches, Derek wanted to slam it back shut. There were several lines that he was willing to cross but going through another guy’s underwear drawer? That wasn’t one of them.  
  


But…  
  


He just couldn’t stop himself from staring in bewildered awe at the dresser contents. Admittedly he’d never thought about what kind of underwear Stiles might wear but this was just…were those rainbow colored briefs? Derek snagged a pencil from the dresser top and gently tugged the brightly colored briefs out of their place. Yep, rainbow colored.  
  


Shaking his head, he did his best to poke the underwear back into its place. Despite his best efforts, it still poked out awkwardly. Showing that someone had pulled it out. With a tiny grimace, Derek held his breath and quickly shoved the material down into the mess and made a promise with himself that he’d wash his hands with the strongest smelling soap he could find asap.  
  


He tried not to think about the underlying scent of the drawer and its contents, noting instead that they all smelled like the same brand of laundry detergent that Derek used. Note to self, change that immediately. He hadn’t liked the smell of ‘fresh fields’ anyways.  
  


Several familiar printed logos were lined neatly against the far left - Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Green Lantern, Captain America. Stiles was into comics? Not all together too surprising.   
  


Derek’s eyes darted over the various hues and colors, wondering if the boy even  _had_ some normal, regular underwear. Everything was brightly colored and or had something printed on it. Hell, he could even make out a few that had some  _text_ on them.   
  


There was  _one_ that looked normal. Derek pulled it out with the pencil, sneering distastefully at its bright red hue. As the material unfolded, Derek twisted his hand to check the backside of the underwear. Well look at that, Stiles  _did_ have some normal underwear. If one could call glaringly bright red as a  _normal_ choice for briefs.  
  


The sound of a door banging made him jump, the briefs dropping from the pencil end. Making a mad grab for the material, Derek hurriedly slammed the drawer shut, stuffed the cotton briefs into his jacket pocket without thought and smacked the skateboard back in its place. He focused his attention on figuring out who had just come home. From the sounds of it, it was Stiles. Good.   
  


—  
  


It was later, when Derek was back home and cleaning his pockets out of sheer habit, that he realized what he had picked up unwittingly. Derek stared in abject horror at the red briefs resting innocently in his hand.  
  


 _'When did I…'_ , he wondered, dropping the material as though it had burned him. Derek watched the briefs crumple against the burnt wood, a splash of color against the blackened floor. Wait, that wasn’t important now. What was important to get rid of it. _Immediately_.  
  


Or maybe he ought to figure out some way to return it back to its rightful place? Derek didn’t know if Stiles would even notice the absence but what if he did? Reasonably, he knew that Stiles could chalk it up to somehow loosing the briefs in the laundry.  
  


But paranoia asked him what if it was Stiles’ favorite underwear? Then what? It asked so many what if’s that Derek knew that the only way he’d have  _any_ peace of mind would be to stuff the briefs back into Stiles’ underwear drawer.  
  


Of course that meant he’d have to touch the briefs again…  
  


Derek sighed, cursed his luck and knelt down to pick the underwear up.  
  


—  
  


The thing about knowing some useless information was how it tended to pop into your mind at odd occasions. So if and when Derek would catch a glimpse of color edging the teenager’s jeans, Derek’s mind would idly wonder which pair he was wearing. And every time Derek wanted to smack his brain into the nearest wall in the hopes of knocking out what he knew about Stiles' underwear drawer. Red edging however, served to make him feel guilty and avoid looking at Stiles for the rest of the day. Who knew that a color could make Derek feel like he was being judged?  
  


Luckily, that had only happened a few times over the course of their non-relationship. But mind you, even that was a few times too many for him. The last thing he wanted to be doing when in the middle of a life and death situation was trying to figure out if the white edge of Stiles’ underwear was the the rainbow colored briefs or one of the Marvel ones.  
  


One could argue however, that  _that_ wasn’t the worst that had come out of pursuing his curiosity. No, that had been something quite different. But it had stilled involved Stiles’ underwear.   
  


Derek had began to darkly wonder if Stiles had cursed him in some way, shape or form. Or if his underwear was cursed. Bad enough that Derek had been having extremely questionable thoughts about a 16 year old but finding his stupid red underwear (the one he hadn’t been able to return no matter how hard he’d tried!) in the middle of his pink tinted whites was just insult to injury. __  
  
  


Standing in the middle of the laundromat, Derek glared at the offending briefs that he _still_ hadn’t managed to return to their owner. He turned his glare down at the now pink clothes and wondered why he was even bothering to keep the damned underwear with him in the first place! If Stiles hadn’t noticed their absence by now, he probably wasn’t going to miss them now!   
  


So he stuffed his clothes back into a basket and ‘forgot’ the red briefs in his haste. __  
  
  


—  
  


While the rest of the town worried about where to go on vacation and summer homework, Derek worked tirelessly on trying to find Erica and Boyd while simultaneously tracking down the Alphas.  
  


In the initial weeks, Derek had felt himself grow ragged, pushing himself on two fronts at the same time. Having Isaac (and Peter to an extent, he would grudgingly admit) around to help had been a God sent. And bringing Stiles in to help had been worth the swallowed pride. Kind of.  
  


While it was convenient to have someone who would bring them regular updates straight from the horse’s mouth, it also meant being in close quarters with the teenager and his particular brand of sarcasm. Initially there had been a lot of quiet but highly judgemental staring on his part whenever Stiles would make one biting comment or another. But soon enough, Derek had begun sniping back - much to Stiles’ joy and amusement.  
  


Before he realized it, they had wound up being friends of sorts. Or at least, someone who Derek thought that he could be friends with were it not for the pesky fact that his fantasies involving Stiles had grown after spending so much time around him. The more time that they had spent together, the more Derek realized that his image of Stiles was incomplete.  
  


He’d thought that teenager was contrary for the sake of it, stubborn for no reason, loyal to a fault, far too sarcastic for his own good and a chatterbox. Okay, so a lot of that still held true but there was more to Stiles than that. While Derek didn’t understand where the being contrary thing came from (maybe it was just Stiles being a teenager?), he understood that love and loyalty towards the people he loved was why he so stubbornly kept butting into the supernatural side of life.  
  


The chatterbox thing, of all things, he wound up getting used too. At first it had been irritating, being pulled out of whatever book or article that Derek had been immersed with only to find himself being asked some odd question like, ‘Who decided that purple was going to be a color for royalty?’. Those kind of questions tended to crop up more and more as the night would crawl into the pre-dawn mornings.  __  
  
  


But eventually, Stiles’ mumbling and odd queries became like background noise - like a radio or TV playing in the background. On days when Stiles wouldn’t come over, Derek would find himself feeling antsy for no reason. The feeling would only settle once he’d turn the radio on, dialling the volume down to the bare minimum.  
  


The problem with having Stiles around a lot was… well, there were several problems actually. Stiles seemed completely unaware of his oral fixation, much to Derek’s uneasy delight - although he winced whenever Stiles would chew and bite down on his straws. Highlighters and pens were the worst, making Derek’s thoughts wander down dangerous roads before he’d force his attention back.  
  


Another was Stiles tendency to adopt all kinds of uncomfortable looking reading and resting positions that showed off slivers of tempting skin. Once Derek had found the boy spread over the lower steps of the staircase, shirt rucked up to reveal several inches of skin and the top of his green underwear.   
  


He had enough problems as it was! Derek didn’t need one more that was an inch shorter than himself, around a 150 pounds and made of stubborness, sarcasm and the kind of loyalty Derek wished he could be on the receiving end of. He hadn’t wanted to realize, while absent-mindedly ordering curly fries on the off chance that Stiles would show up at the loft for lunch, that what he was feeling for the teenager went beyond simple lust.  
  


Derek had almost driven his car off the road at that epiphany. That realization had made him panic, stare blinding out at the road and wonder when Stiles had gotten under his skin and inside his heart. This was dangerous in so many ways beyond count.  
  


But he was hesitant to stop Stiles from coming over, from helping. It was a selfish desire that he wrapped up prettily in the thin reasoning that no matter what he said, Stiles was stubborn enough to carry on the search on his own. And it was better that Derek be around to keep an eye on the teenager right? Especially since Scott wasn’t around these days.  
  


Stiles had explained that Scott was using the summer months to improve himself, his relations and his grades while honoring Allison’s wishes. So while Scott was dealing with fixing his own life, Stiles was going to focus on helping Derek keeping an eye out for Erica and Boyd. And learn as much as he could about werewolves from Derek.  
  


As it was, there was still a lot that Stiles wanted to know about werewolves and Derek was loathe to let go of the company. He wondered if the reason why he had grown attached to Stiles was because he was the first proper company he’d had since Laura. Stiles treated him like Derek - not like the alpha or ‘that poor Hale boy’ or the person who had killed his own uncle or the guy who’d ruined so many people’s life - just Derek.  
  


Regardless of the reason, Derek was glad of Stiles’ company. And while his attraction towards Stiles was still heavily tainted with lust and a burgeoning UST (he hated that Stiles had wound up teaching him that term), it was also colored with a sweet kind of fondness. It was muted and faded in color, like a faded photograph or the memory of a color whose name you’d forgotten.   
  


It was the second notion that made him accept Stiles’ unthinking physical attentions and return them with the same amount of thought. Stiles would poke and prod him with fingers and toes when he wanted Derek to  do something that involved getting up off the sofa but was too lazy to do so himself. He’d roll his eyes and pull Derek away when the werewolf would come this close to throwing his coffee machine out the window out of sheer frustration. Stiles had even affectionately ruffled Derek’s hair on several different occasions, grinning idiotically wide in a way that said ‘I know you’re pissed that I just did that but I know you’re not going to hurt me for it either!’ Derek had proved him wrong by smacking a cushion into his face before walking away to hide his grin at Stiles’ spluttering.  
  


Stiles, in his usual way, kept pushing and prodding at whatever barriers Derek kept around him. He started leaving some of his thing around the loft - a change of clothes, his red sneakers, several textbooks and notebooks, his phone charger (with phone attached once). It felt weird that Stiles would choose to do so, as though he was leaving behind deliberate reminders for Derek that said ‘I’m in your life, I choose to be here, don’t you forget that’.   
  


Although there was one particular occasion where he  _really_ wished that Stiles wasn’t so… _Stiles_. At the same time, Derek could also blame those damned red briefs. It figured that even though he’d gotten rid of them, they were still causing him problems.  
  


"Are you wearing pink underwear?" Stiles’ amused hoot made Derek straighten like a shot, completely forgetting around searching the cabinets for the right sized pot in favor of glaring at the teenager.  
  


There was a wicked gleam of amusement in Stiles’ eyes as he crept forward. It made Derek take a step back, not liking where this was going. “No I’m not.” Derek replied. It wasn’t a complete lie because the underwear had been white…before it had been stained pink thanks to Stiles’ red briefs somehow showing up inside the washing machine. Throwing away perfectly good underwear had seemed like a complete waste so…  
  


Dere took a step back as Stiles lunged forward towards him. But Stiles’ fingers had latched onto his shirt. However, he was unable to pull the material up because Derek was pushing his shirt down with a heated glare. Stiles was grinning at him, dancing along with Derek as they twisted around the kitchen counter and into the middle of the loft. “I know what I saw!” Stiles sing songed, trying to stick his leg between Derek’s in a poor bid to trip him up. “I saw London, I saw France, I saw Derek’s pink underpants!”  
  


Derek wanted to facepalm so hard that he’d give himself a black eye. How was this the person he liked? Stiles laughed, hands still tugging on Derek’s shirt. “C’moooon! I just wanna make sure that I wasn’t seeing things!”  
  


"You  _were_ seeing things!” Derek barked, pulling them both away from the table littered with open books and maps before moving them to the side. “Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.”  
  


"Maybe  _you_  need to get your head checked.” Stiles retorted, trying to trip Derek up again and succeeding this time. Derek fell back on his bed, surprised at how they’d gotten there when they’d started out in the kitchen.   
  


Stiles took advantage of the werewolf’s split second confusion, kneeling on top of Derek’s hips as he pulled his shirt up and his jeans down several inches. Derek blushed and then frowned as Stiles leaned over him and laughed into his shoulder. “Oh  _man!_ I wish I had my camera! Where’s my phone?”  
  


With a growl, Derek rolled them over so that Stiles was under him, their chests pressed together. “Don’t you dare!” He gave Stiles his best and most intimidating glare, complete with a flash of his red eyes. But Stiles was too busy giggling to care.   
  


It took the teenager a long minute to get himself back under control. It also gave Derek a good chance to observe Stiles from up close. He tried to memorize the warm color that had bloomed on the boy’s cheeks, the wetness clinging to his long lashes, the wide spread of his smile. Not to mention the sensation of his broad hands curled around his biceps, loose and warm. The ticklish feeling of his ankles rubbing against Derek’s hips.  
  


He wasn’t sure what it was that made Stiles’ freeze. In a quick breath, the air between them turned fragile and delicate. Derek stared down at Stiles, wondering what to do. He ought to move, stand up and apologize or help Stiles up before cuffing him in the back of the head. Then they could go back to arguing on whether the best mac and cheese had a lot of cheese or a lot of milk in it.  
  


The decision, however, was taking out of his hands when Stiles’ ran his hands slowly up Derek’s arms. Derek held his breath when the long fingers brushed against his neck, cupping his jaw so tenderly. “Derek.” Stiles murmured, warm and sweet, hands bringing his face forward slowly - giving Derek all the chances to pull away.  
  


But instead, Derek blew out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. His hands shifted up Stiles’ back to rest against his shoulder blades. And when they kissed, he felt Stiles’ breath hitch against his hands and his chest. It was a chaste contact, soft and dry and oh so innocent.   
  


They parted, warm breathes mingling before they both returned for more. Their lips brushed against each other in lazy almost kisses before capturing pink skin to tease and caress. Derek sighed quietly into the contact, tilting his head so that he could press a longer kiss against Stiles’s bottom lip, sucking and licking at the already swollen skin.  
  


Stiles shifted underneath him, hands sifting restlessly through Derek’s hair before sliding down his back. They moved back up, holding the werewolf’s face before parting his lips and running his tongue over Derek’s lips. He parted his lips immediately, ready for a deeper kiss but Derek was surprised when Stiles simply pressed their lips together and didn’t  use his tongue.  
  


No matter, there’d be time for that later.  
  


The thought of that sent a pleasant tingle down his back, making Derek smile as he pulled away. Stiles was looking up at him through half lidded eyes, lips a delectable shade of pink that made Derek want to go back down. He watched a shy but happy smile grow on Stiles’ lips, feeling its twin growing on his own face.  
  


And then the smile grew wider, more cheeky in a way that immediately made Derek wary. “What?” He asked, raising himself up enough to eye Stiles.  
  


The teenager waited a moment, lips pressed together in a way that meant that he was internally debating on whether or not he should share his thought or not. 9 times out of 10, he’d always wind up spilling whatever it was that he was trying to hold back. And he did not disappoint this time either.  
  


"Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree~" Stiles whispered under his breath, body shaking with suppressed mirth. Derek groaned, grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked it into Stiles’ face. The sound of Stiles’ muffled laughter made his ears turn red and his heart warm as he made his way back to the kitchen to fix them lunch.  
  



End file.
